by G. K. DeRosa
He clucked his teeth and took another long drag of his cigar. “That’s a shame.”
“Do you know anything else?”
A grin pulled at his thin lips, curling them up. “I may have more information on the night in question for the right price.”
“I don’t have any money yet, but I can get some.” I just had to admit to Emi or my parents what happened. Or maybe I’d call in a favor to one of my grandfathers. Somehow admitting what I’d done to Lucifer or Garrix seemed easier than telling the other three.
“It’s not money I’m interested in.” He speared me with that dark gaze that made my head spin.
I swallowed hard and attempted to replace the moisture that had suddenly evaporated from my mouth. “Then what do you want?”
“I deal in many things, Azara.”
When had I told him my name?
“Like?” I was getting tired of this cryptic conversation, and I was short on time. The last thing I needed was to get stuck in this scary AF cell block.
“Favors, information, secrets…” He flicked his wrist. “There are so many possibilities.”
I glanced at my not-watch again and muttered a curse through clenched teeth. “Well, what do you want from me specifically?”
“How about I tell you what you want to know now, and I’ll get back to you?”
An open-ended favor to a demon thug? That sounded like a really bad idea. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I’d gotten this far already; it would be a shame to waste this opportunity. “Fine, we have a deal if you also get me in to see the warden. I’ve heard you’ve got a special relationship?”
His furry brow rose, and he rubbed his pointy horn. “That was with the former warden, unfortunately. Warden Campbell and I are still forging our working relationship.”
“So you can’t do it?”
His eyes narrowed, and he spat out the cigar. “That’s not what I said.”
“Then we have a deal?” My feet were twitching to get out of there.
With a grin, he extended his hairy, clawed hand. “You drive a hard bargain, but we have a deal, little girl.” Again, his gaze flickered to my demon mark before rising to meet my eyes. “From what I heard, the manager of some new Fae club called the SIA in when you attacked one of their patrons. Somehow, you managed to evade the agents and escape into the Fae forest. From there, they lost you for a few hours, until the authorities were alerted of the massacre.”
My lungs constricted, and all the air whooshed out. Blurred images raced through my mind—the beautiful open-air courtyard, figures dancing, the bar... The last thing I clearly remembered was that demon buying me a drink. “How many did I kill?” I finally choked out.
“Counting the SIA agent who tried to bring you in, thirty-seven.”
My heart smacked against my ribs before grinding to a halt. No. It can’t be. Blood curdling screams echoed across my ears, and a carousel of ashen faces and vacant stares flashed through my vision. I squeezed my eyes shut, chasing away the horrifying images. Gods, no wonder I ended up here. I was probably more of a monster than most of these inmates. My thoughts rushed back to the night I’d been brought in and what the guard had said. You killed one of our own, little girl. Was the SIA agent who they’d been talking about?
“It’s pretty impressive, especially for one as young as you.” Delacroix’s raspy voice brought me back to the present.
I snapped my jaw shut before I admitted something stupid. According to Hayden, having a bad rep was better than having none at all.
“Strange you don’t remember though.” His black eyes searched mine, but clenching my jaw, I held his unwavering gaze.
“Sometimes I black out,” I finally replied.
He glanced at my shirt sleeve again, or rather what was under it, before picking up his cigar and bringing it to his lips once more. No one had ever paid so much attention to it as in the past few days—first Delacroix, then Talon. Weird.
“I see.” His lips encircled the cigar, and the sweet, smoky scent filled the air again. “Regarding the second part of your question, I’ll have to get back to you when I’ve seen the warden.”
I nodded and jumped up, eager to get the hell out of dodge.
“No so fast, little one. There’s one more thing we need to discuss.”
I froze mid-step. Dammit, I should’ve been faster. Whirling back toward him, I quirked a brow. “What’s that?”
He slowly stood and moved toward me until his hot breath swirled over the top of my head. “I don’t know if your Triad friends told you, but all the inmates at Darkblood tend to pick a side. Either you’re with me, like the majority of our residents, or you’re not.”
I steeled my spine and stared up at him. “Nope, they didn’t mention it.”
“Well, consider this me mentioning it. Most inmates are required to make an immediate decision, but since we’ve already begun to cultivate a relationship, I’ll give you until our next meeting.”
“That’s very generous of you.” I bit my tongue at the sarcasm lacing my tone. Oops. “And what if I decide I don’t want to be on anyone’s side?” I asked a little more sweetly.
He shook his head. “There is no option three, Azara.”
“Good to know. I’ll get back to you then.” I spun toward the door and barreled through Delacroix’s minions. I stayed too long. Sprinting down the corridor and praying I didn’t run into the jagga demons or anyone else, I raced against an invisible clock.
I turned the corner just as the first buzzer blared. Craptabulous. I pumped my arms like a madwoman, the looming door to the atrium almost within reach. A herd of demons appeared through the doorway and blocked the narrow corridor.
“Move, move,” I hissed under my breath. Plastering my body against the wall, I skimmed the smooth surface as the second horn erupted. No!
The last demon came through, and the door began to close. I watched as the metal giant shut in slow motion, a scream caught in my throat. I’m not going to make it.
I leapt forward, my hand outstretched and fingers splayed. I watched in horror as the door slammed shut, the crack echoing across the corridor.
“No!” I smacked my palms against the door and sank to the floor, leaning against the chilly metal. Burying my face in my hands, I sucked in a shallow breath. Stay calm, Azara. You can survive a night in the demon ward.
Hot tears pricked at the back of my eyes.
A click sounded behind me, and I started to fall backward. My arms shot up and a hand wrapped around mine, hauling me off the floor. As I was dragged through the narrow opening in the door, I hazarded a quick glance up.
Talon’s fiery silver gaze bored down on me.
The door slammed shut behind us, and he released my hand. My legs shot out from under me, and I teetered forward. “Damn it, Azara,” Talon growled as he reached for my waist to steady me.
I fell back against a wall of steel abs, my hands scrambling for purchase and finding his forearms. Freakin’ awesome. I finally peeled myself off his chest and stood on my own merit.
“What the hell were you doing in there?” he hissed as I whirled around to face him. He wiped the thank you right off my lips.
I popped my hands on my hips and glared up at him. “What do you care? That’s where I belong anyway, right? Maybe I was checking out my new digs. You’ve made it perfectly clear that I shouldn’t be in your cell.”
“You shouldn’t. But you shouldn’t be with Delacroix either.”
I shot him a narrowed stare. “How do you know I was with him?”
He pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze to the floor. “That’s not important.”
“Were you following me?”
“No,” he snarled.
“Then how did you find me?”
“More like how did I save you from an entire night in Eight?”
“Yeah, whatever.” I let my hands slide off my hips and settle across my chest. This guy was insufferable and confusing, but he had just to
tally saved my butt.
He stepped closer and the air between us thickened. Or maybe it was only me. “I told you, I care about this prison and what goes on behind its walls. I also need to know who Delacroix associates with.” He lowered his voice for the last part. Then he scanned the quiet atrium, his sharp gaze settling on Sandrene. She leaned across the counter, picking at her long fingernails. “Come on. We gotta get back to our cell before the C.O.s start their rounds.”
A thought surfaced to the forefront of my mind. “How did you get me out of Block Eight?” Only demons were supposed to have access after happy hour.
He turned and began to walk away. “I grabbed the door before it shut.”
“No, it was definitely closed.” The click of the lock resounded through my head like a death knell.
“You’re mistaken, one thirty-eight.” He didn’t even look back at me as he stalked toward Block One.
Chapter Eleven
“Inmate one-thirty-eight, wake up. You’ve got a visitor.” The booming voice made me shoot up from bed. I rubbed my bleary eyes, still hoping I’d open them and find myself in my old room at Emi’s house. Focusing on the stark gray ceiling overhead, I groaned. No such luck.
“Keep it down,” Talon muttered and ducked back under the covers. Hayden didn’t even move, his big feet hanging over the bottom bunk.
Rolling over, I turned to the glass wall to find C.O. Actaeon and another male I didn’t recognize. He wasn’t wearing the bland beige correctional uniform, instead he was in a nice button-down shirt and slacks—a combo I hadn’t seen since my last visit to the human world over a year ago. The man’s pale gray eyes narrowed, the crease between his light brows deepening as his gaze raked over me. He shoved his fingers through his short hair which was almost a perfect match to his slate irises.
“Azara?” he breathed out.
I leapt out of bed and ran a hand through my own tangled locks. “You know me?” Plastering my palms against the glass, I searched my memory for an image of the man. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite place it. He seemed youngish, thirty at most, and he was pretty damned good looking. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest, only a few inches shorter than Talon. He wasn’t human, but for some reason I related him to the human world.
“It is you…” He sucked in a breath and whirled at Actaeon. “Get her out of there, immediately.”
The C.O.’s dark brows bunched. “But Warden, she—”
Warden?
He swiped his palm over the scanner, cutting him off and the door slid open. I hazarded a step but before I made it through the threshold, he bounded toward me. Rough hands cupped my cheeks as he searched my face. “It really is you. You’re the spitting image of your mother, but those eyes—they’re all Ryder.”
I gulped and squirmed free of his grasp. “You know my parents?” He looked nearly two decades younger than them.
“I’m Logan Campbell. It’s been years since I last saw you. I’ve known your family for quite some time. Do you remember me at all?”
“You’re Logan? Dad’s friend from the Gargoyle Guardian Council?” That would explain the age difference. Gargoyles aged at a much slower rate than humans or most supernaturals.
He nodded. “And your mom’s trainer at Darkblood—I mean, Darkhen Academy.”
“While my Dad was MIA in the Underworld, right?”
His expression darkened. “Right.”
Dad didn’t like to share the stories from his time in the Underworld. I always thought there was more to it than he told me. I knew he’d had trouble controlling his demon for a while, but I’d never heard the whole story.
I was so consumed with this ghost from my parents’ past that I hadn’t noticed Talon and Hayden slip out of their bunks.
“So our little pumpkin does have family.” Hayden smirked and jabbed his elbow into my side.
Talon’s dark gaze flickered from me to Logan and back. “Interesting coincidence you knowing our new warden.”
“Yeah.” I released the breath I’d been holding since I set foot in this prison fortress.
Logan spun at Actaeon, his face like stone. “How did she end up in a cell with two males? And in the wrong cell block?”
The C.O. shrugged. “I’m not sure. I don’t oversee intake.”
He gritted his teeth and snarled. “I knew I saw her the day I arrived.” He turned to me, and his face softened. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner, Azara.”
A vague memory of my arrival at Darkblood and a shadowy figure calling out my name seeped to the surface. That was Logan?
“She’s handled herself just fine, Warden.” Talon tossed an icy glare in his direction.
As if finally realizing who had spoken, Logan’s expression morphed into one of understanding. “Talon,” he muttered. “From the Triad?”
The dragon’s cheeks flushed, and I nearly died of shock. I didn’t thing the big brute was capable of embarrassment.
“I need to speak to the two of you later.” The warden pointed at my roommates before turning back to me. He squeezed my shoulder and led me to the door.
“Hey Warden,” Talon growled, “before you get too chummy with your old friend, you should probably look at her file. She’s not in here for pick-pocketing.”
Logan spun back and seared my surly bunkie with an icy smile. “Thanks for the advice, inmate. I assure you I’m more than capable of handling my job, along with this prisoner.”
“Sure…”
The rest of Talon’s words were drowned out by the mechanic suctioning sound of our cell closing. Faces of delinquent angels pressed to the glass enclosures as we passed, some eyeing our new warden but most shooting daggers in my direction.
I shrugged out of Logan’s hold, hoping he’d understand. The last thing I needed was a bigger target on my back.
“Where are you taking her?” Actaeon asked, glued to Logan’s flank.
“To my office.”
The dragon guard’s eyes rounded to the size of full moons. “You can’t…”
“Why not?”
“She’s a prisoner, Logan. And the things she’s done—it’s not safe for you.”
He glanced at the wrist that sported my fashionable prison accessory. “I think I’ll be fine.”
“That’s what you thought about Delacroix too,” he muttered under his breath.
My eyes widened at the demon’s name. “You had a run in with Delacroix?” Was that why he’d come to see me?
Logan’s cheeks flamed, and he shot Actaeon fierce side-eye. “Nothing too bad. And no that’s not why.”
The C.O.’s thick chest rumbled, and a deep chuckle slipped through his lips. “You were in the infirmary for days.”
“C.O. Actaeon!” he growled. “Enough.”
He slapped Logan on the shoulder and grinned. “Fine. I’ll leave you to your business with this one, but be careful, okay? And check your com cuff.”
“I appreciate your concern.” Our new warden shook his head and waved him off. His silver bracelet pinged, and an image flashed across the device. He frowned and loosed a sharp breath.
We walked in silence from that point on as Logan steered us through the obsidian-walled labyrinth. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the tendon in his jaw twitch. Whatever he’d seen on his cuff couldn’t have been good.
When we reached the staircase, I finally recognized the area from my tour with Flix. I really needed to learn my way around this place.
“Just up to the second level.” Logan pointed to the steep steps and motioned for me to go first.
The words thank you burned at the back of my throat, but for some reason I didn’t spit them out. I needed to know more about his relationship with Delacroix. Nearly a decade had passed since I’d met this man and a lot could change in ten years. Not trusting anyone was a cardinal rule of prison, wasn’t it?
When I reached the final step, the click-clack of heels drew my attention down the dim hall. Even the administratio
n wing was coated in the same dark obsidian.
“Oh hi, Logan!” A cute redhead in a white uniform waved at the mountain of a gargoyle to my left. “How are you feeling?” Then her sparkling green eyes turned to me, and she snapped her jaw closed. “Sorry, I didn’t realize she was an inmate.” She glanced back and forth down the hall before facing him again. “She’s not supposed to be up here without a guard escort,” she whispered.
“It’s okay, Fiona, I know her.”
Her auburn brows knitted. “Oh.”
“Azara, this is Fiona, the prison healer.”
Nodding, I extended my hand before thinking better of it and tucking it under my armpit. “Nice to meet you,” I said instead.
She gave me a tight smile and turned her anxious gaze back to Logan. “Don’t forget to come by later so I can take a look at your wound.”
Again, his cheeks flushed, and I suppressed the grin trying to split my lips. “Will do, thanks.” He placed his hand on the small of my back and turned me toward the opposite end of the corridor. Fiona’s eyes bulged out, but I dropped my gaze, hiding behind a curtain of dark hair and hurried forward.
The last thing I needed was for the healer to get the wrong idea about Logan and me. If I remembered correctly from Mom’s stories, the gargoyle was over a hundred years old. Hottest centenarian I’ve ever met…
Logan stopped in front of a thick oak door, old iron bars fastened across the middle and a gold plaque with the word Warden in big bold letters. Set into the wall beside it was the same biometric scanner found all over the fortress. It amazed me how this place mixed old gothic style with modern tech.
“Well, this is me.” He waved his palm over the reader and the door creaked open. He motioned for me to enter, and I slipped between his hulking body and the doorjamb. My arm grazed his chest, and it was like skimming the side of a mountain. Logan was the first gargoyle I’d ever met in person, and everything I’d heard seemed true. He was literally as hard as a rock. I almost giggled at my own innuendo. Geez, Azara, get your head out of the gutter. This is Dad’s friend!